


As if you were a mythical thing

by korereapers



Series: Mythos AU (Losers PJO AU) [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Mythology - Freeform, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: This is the thing: Eddie is a son of Ares. Which sounds even more embarrassing and ridiculous when he thinks about it with actual words, and not a ghastly thought that plagues his mind sometimes. Most of the time, actually.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, but mostly reddie
Series: Mythos AU (Losers PJO AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085135
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Writers Revolution Secret Santa 2020





	As if you were a mythical thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KT1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KT1/gifts).



> This is a gift for Katie, who is what we scientifically call a sweetheart. We decided to organize a Secret Santa and she was the one I got! And since she was so supportive of this AU, I thought then IT HAS TO BE FOR HER.
> 
> I hope you like it, our local fashion icon and certified sweetheart. And of course, I have to thank Pie and Helena for being such nice beta readers.
> 
> Also yeah, the title is from a Taylor Swift song. Shhhh

They are sitting on the grass, and for once, Eddie thinks that he belongs somewhere. Genuinely believes it.

Richie is whistling a song he doesn’t know, and he tries to imitate it the best he can, failing miserably and earning a chuckle from Richie.

“If you put your lips like that, I’m going to take it as a proposition, Eds.”

He makes kissy sounds, and Eddie hears Beverly’s choked laugh. She is smoking quietly, like she always does when Eddie is around, careful not to let the smoke anywhere near him. He appreciates the gesture, even if he would prefer if she didn’t smoke at all.

That’s supposed to be his thing, except it isn’t.

This is the thing: Eddie is a son of Ares. Which sounds even more embarrassing and ridiculous when he thinks about it with actual words, and not a ghastly thought that plagues his mind sometimes. Most of the time, actually.

His dad had a liking for his mom, and then he was born in the most difficult childbirth ever seen. That’s what his mother says, at least. A kid that was born before his time, a mother that almost died alongside him. Weak lungs, a frail body, legs that now want to run but that refuse to. Nothing like his father, who could make the world tremble by only taking his sunglasses off and showing the world the literal fire hiding behind them.

Eddie has no fire, he thinks. He is small, fragile. Tiny limbs and a scared expression that never quite leaves his features. Something trembles inside of him, and he isn’t really sure of what it is. It’s just there. And he is like a spectator, watching something unfolding that he doesn’t quite understand, until it’s too late.

He just knows that he is going to rot one day.

“You are a turd, did you know that?” he says, even if that’s not really what he means.

Richie smiles, with one of his shit eating grins. He hates that he loves them, sometimes. Not as much as he would like to think.

“It takes one to know one.”

He does snort at that. He loves him, he thinks. Eddie stops laughing abruptly, and then he starts coughing.

It’s weird, he thinks. He has never had doubts about loving Richie, about loving them all. But sometimes, when the feeling gets different, just slightly, it fills him with dread instead of joy. He hates those times with all of his heart.

It’s Ben who touches his shoulder, though. His hand is gentle against Eddie’s tiny frame, and there is something calming about him. Maybe it’s his own personality, maybe it’s the result of being a son of Athena, but Ben’s presence is always one you can trust.

Children of Athena are clever and resourceful. Ben is like that, too, with his dreamy eyes wondering, his mind focused as he works on his next project. He wants to be an architect one day, and Eddie knows he will succeed at his dream. Ben is one of the most intelligent people he knows.

Children of Athena tend to be slender, though, almost always. Ben stands out amongst them, still a little short, chubby and a little awkward. When the rest of his siblings go forward, Ben thinks, considers, and offers a helping hand if needed.

Eddie has always loved that about him.

“I… I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s then when Beverly ruffles his hair, towering over most of them. Ben blushes almost immediately. Eddie has read about it, about how girls hit puberty before boys, usually. He still has a baby face, and his voice is nowhere near getting lower. He sounds like a scared baby most of the time, but Bev? Bev is different.

Bev is probably the coolest person he knows. That’s not just Richie’s words, it’s an undeniable fact. She is a daughter of Aphrodite, and some people may think that it doesn’t fit her, at all. Eddie used to think about it, back when he met her. What if they had gotten their parents mixed up? Bev, with her combat boots and defiant stare, and Eddie and his trembling lips and vulnerable smile.

Bev gets him. Better than anyone else. She is the tall to his tiny, the strength to his softness, the rashness to his meekness. Her dad is a piece of work, and while Eddie doesn’t quite want to accept it… his mom kind of is, too. He fails to see what Aphrodite saw in that man, but he guesses that love has a sick sense of humor.

Which reminds him.

Richie is now saying something to Stan, something about chicks and tits, and Eddie doesn’t know whether to blush or to assume that they’re talking about birds. Stan just loves birds, which is weird for a son of Hades, but maybe that’s why they all fit so well together. They’re weirdos among weirdos. They’re losers, and they always will be.

“What do you mean about tits?”

Richie snorts at that, as if it was the funniest joke that Eddie has ever told. Eddie is not good at jokes, he has never been funny, but someone as funny as Richie laughs at the stuff he says all the same.

The feeling is warm, unexpectedly. This time, he doesn’t feel like choking. He doesn’t quite understand why it happens, since he never feels breathless when he is around his friends, when they’re just like this, having a nice afternoon, looking at the sunset and wondering what’s behind it.

Remembering, mostly, as he is sure that Mike misses his parents and his grandpa. Mourning, because he is sure that Bill thinks about poor Georgie at all times, every single day.

Mike is a son of Demeter, which once made Richie point at him and Stan and say something like  _ your stepmom is Mike’s half-sister, how fucked up is that? _ But everyone just accepts that the god side of the family doesn’t really matter. If it did, every single demigod would be related, and that’s… well. That’s kind of gross, actually.

And honestly, yes, Mike does feel connected to nature, but he is way more interested in books. History books, mostly. He does his own research, about kids like them, kids who survived against all odds. About kids who died, like Georgie, which makes Bill’s beautiful blue eyes go darker than a storm.

Bill is a son of Zeus, which Eddie guesses it’s fitting. He has a regal air, something that makes Eddie respect him. He loves Bill like an older brother, or like the decent parent he never had. His step-father died when he was too small to remember, and Ares is kind of a dick, even if he would never admit it out loud. Sonia Kaspbrak is yet another different can of worms, though.

And then, there is Richie. It’s always Richie, in a way. His thoughts always go back to him, like waves to the sand, but the other way around, he guesses. Because Richie is a son of Poseidon, and Eddie has lost the count of the times that he made the waves move just to gently splash Eddie a little. Stan rolls his eyes when it happens, and Ben smiles understandingly. And Eddie gets mad, just a little, at himself because he doesn’t get what’s supposed to be obvious.

“You’re a funny one, Eds.”

Eddie’s face feels so hot that he doesn’t even have the strength to tell Richie not to call him that.

And someone may ask, why are they even losers, in a place like this, where everyone is just a fucking weirdo like them? 

As it turns out, even weirdness has its own strange standards.

With Bill, Richie and Stan, it’s kind of easy to understand. They are the sons of the most important gods, who made a pact back in the day to (and these are Richie’s words) keep it in their pants. They were unable to, and boom, three kids were born. So of course, everyone is just a little too afraid of the most powerful demigods around. They also have their own places, all for themselves, without having to share their bedrooms. Eddie kind of envies that, because his siblings tend to be kind of bullies, but he also sees the loneliness in Richie’s eyes, and he wonders if he could convince Chiron to let them bunk together.

Why Richie, and not Stanley or even Bill (with his beautiful eyes, his cute red hair), that Eddie doesn’t quite understand. Not yet. He will though, sooner or later.

Beverly is a little bit like him. She doesn’t fit with her siblings, to the point that they don’t even look like their parents’ children. Bev jokes about it all, about how Eddie’s father is fucking Bev’s mother, but Eddie fails to see the humor. There is something unsaid about Bev, but when Eddie confesses one night to her, and her only, that he feels dirty for the desires he holds close to his heart (but not the whole truth, never the whole truth), Beverly just nods, a cigar between her lips.

“I know a thing or two about being dirty.”

Eddie wants to tell her that she is not, but Bev’s expression is serene as she speaks. Accepting, even. Eddie knows what they say about her, and he also knows what it’s all lies, but Beverly doesn’t seem to mind too much. Except that her beautiful eyes get sad when she speaks about it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart.

“You’re more of a lover than I am, Eddie.” she tells him once, during one of their talks.

“I don’t think I am, Bevvie.”

And that’s true. Eddie knows rage as much as he knows love, and he is full of it, full of them both, to the point of boiling and almost exploding. But Beverly smiles at him knowingly, and Eddie realises, as Beverly touches his arm, and he smiles shyly.

Maybe love and war aren’t that different, after all.

It’s different for both Ben and Mike. Mike is a little too much of a bookworm for his siblings, who do not quite despise him, but don’t like him either. With Ben, a particularly mean sister of his mocked his weight and said that he should be a son of Dionysus instead. Beverly broke the asshole’s nose, Richie cheered, and Ben completely fell in love with Bev that day.

It’s not Beverly who realises what Eddie is going through. She is not the first, at least. It’s of course Ben, the local sweetheart, who has been pining for months, and that understands what it feels like to look at someone and feel like breaking inside.

“It’s fine.” Ben tells him, his clever, yet kind eyes telling him that he knows, that there is nothing Eddie can do to hide the truth from him. “Really, it is.”

_ Those goddamn children of Athena. _

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie answers with a nervous smile. It would be easy to be mean, to snap at him. But Ben, sweet Ben, doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment just for  _ knowing _ .

But Ben just shrugs, like it’s nothing, like  _ loving Richie _ is the most natural thing in the world. And even admitting that he loves him hurts a little, that he thinks about him more often than he should, that he is not sure of the way he loves him, but he knows that it’s different and he doesn’t know  _ why _ .

To Eddie, his friends have always been a priority. He would fight for them, kill for them, die for them. Demigods tend to bring trouble, death following them everywhere. Many of them never reach adulthood. The thought haunts him, and he has no trouble admitting it, but that doesn’t mean he feels better because of it.

Eddie loves his friends. And Eddie loves Richie, but with him... it’s different.

He kind of feels guilty about the thought. When he was younger, he used to adore Big Bill. It’s not as if Eddie has a decent parental figure in his life (he is not really sure who is worse, his mom or his dad, and he feels yet guilty again for even daring to hesitate). And Bill? Bill was everything he wanted and needed, back in the day. Bill is beautiful, he has determination, he is stronger than any person Eddie knows.

Now, he realises, utter admiration cannot compare to the purest, most genuine feeling of love.

He blushes at the thought, because of course he does, because his feelings are strong and he is trying to repress and deny them with even more strength. His head will explode, and poor Ben will be scarred for life. Just because of his sick, rotten, and disgusting feelings.

“It’s okay.” It’s everything that Ben says. His voice is gentle, as if he knew what Eddie was thinking. Maybe he is, because Ben always has that look, sweet and empathetic, that just makes you feel better about anything. Eddie is sure that he and Mike (and maybe Stan, but in a different way) are the ones who know all of the losers’ secrets, and the thought is oddly reassuring.

“Is it?” he asks, his voice trembling, not feeling like his. Like this is some kind of nightmare, and in a second he will start rotting on the outside too.

Ben nods, one of his hands hesitantly touching Eddie’s shoulder. Ben’s skin is warm, and Eddie closes his eyes. He is still scared, but he knows that he doesn’t have to face this on his own. That he is thirteen, and that things are supposed to be scary. He knows the theory, but when it comes to practice, he sometimes gets paralyzed, breathless, his lungs telling him to give up, to stop denying himself and just let himself rot.

“Okay… okay…” he says, his voice a little high pitched because of the tension. 

He looks at Ben’s book, untouched between his legs. It looks complicated, and Eddie has never been particularly good at math. He tries to focus on the book, on how heavy it looks. He breathes in, and then out, and then everything starts feeling a little less terrible.

When he calms down a little, Ben is just looking at the sky. Eddie thinks that his eyes look pretty when he looks up, like wondering what’s next, daring to dream. Ben spends too much time looking at his shoes, but that’s something that Eddie can understand.

“Please, don’t… don’t tell anyone.”

Ben smiles, because of course he does, because he knows, because he never would. Because he would never hurt him, any of them, on purpose.

“I suppose we can’t trade secrets…”

“Nope, everyone knows how much you like Bevvie.”

Ben laughs at that, and after a couple of seconds, Eddie imitates the gesture. And for a moment, everything feels alright.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It’s surprising enough to see one demigod reach their forties, but it seems like a miracle that every single one of the losers have survived this long.

The thing about not expecting to survive, is that you don’t really live your life to the fullest. Eddie is divorcing his wife, after realising that he should have never married her in the first place. It’s not Myra’s fault, really. He never really told her about the whole demigod thing, and it’s better this way. She will be out of danger, as long as she is far from him.

That’s, of course, not the real reason he is divorcing her. Not at all.

The truth is, Eddie is gay. He is freaking gay, has known since he was thirteen, but then he forgot for twenty seven years, got married, got a job that he doesn’t really like that much, and a life that he outright hates.

So after reuniting with the rest of the losers, he finally remembers. He also remembers his heritage, as if almost dying for very strange reasons every other day wasn’t proof enough. A trick of Phobos and Deimos, that’s what made them all live their life with their eyes metaphorically closed.

Of course, nobody who comes from freaking Ares can be at least  _ decent _ .

So, after punching each one of them in the face, killing a couple of sirens with a spear, almost losing an arm and his life, he thought about going back to New York. To the life of an adult. He did meet with his lawyer, discussed the terms of the divorce with Myra. Online.

And he keeps pining after Richie fucking Tozier.

Not surprising, isn’t it? That Eddie’s childhood love is still there, eating him from the inside, like how a worm devours an apple until there is nothing left. Until it rots.

He knows there is nothing wrong with loving Richie. Ben told them that much when they were little, and Eddie believes him, he believes his friends, because he loves them and he knows that they love him back.

He is getting better at the whole accepting himself and not mentally punishing himself for the liking men thing. Better, but still not good enough.

To no one’s surprise, Ben is an architect. He doesn’t know what’s with children of Athena and architecture, and while Eddie admires his friend a lot, he finds it incredibly boring. He has gotten fitter, to the point that Eddie cannot help but to… ogle him sometimes. In a platonic way, because his heart belongs to one man, and one man alone (who may or may not be a disaster compared to sweet Ben), but damn if Ben is not attractive. He is as gentle as he used to be, he has the same smile and the same bright eyes, but Eddie is pretty sure that he has chiseled abs under that shirt that looks way too tiny for his muscles.

He is definitely not thirsting over Ben.

And of course, after all this time, Ben and Bev have become official. Which has had its own share of problems, of course.

For starters, Beverly was married to another man until like a month ago. The fucker was exactly like her father… but worse. Tom was even more violent than Bev’s father was back in the day, kind of forcing her to give him everything she earned as a fashion designer. She hasn’t spoken much about it, but the bruises she had when they all met again… none of them is a stranger to what physical abuse feels like. They all had bullies when they were teenagers, after all. And using money to control someone is a very typical form of abuse, too.

Tom had been killed by one of the sirens, because he was stupid enough to follow Beverly after she fled, and they lured him effortlessly. A man with no self control, so infinitely egocentric that he didn’t even try to resist the sirens. Beverly didn’t cry a single tear as he drowned, finally realising his mistake when it was too late. She had looked at him with the coldest expression, and for a moment, Eddie had understood. He had feared her, but he had understood. Because even with his guilt, he would have wanted a similar end to his mother, and not… a heart attack when he was thirty five.

The thing about sirens, is that they don’t necessarily lure you with sex. They know about your deepest fears, your most ardent desires. They had promised to bring Bill’s little brother back, thirty years later, like one of his books had predicted in a tale inspired in Orpheus and Eurydice, but platonic. To let Mike finally rest, after decades of dealing with the weight of knowledge, of the obligation of getting them all back together, unable to live his own life. To cure Ben’s loneliness forever. To give Bev some control over her own life, far from a man who is even a more terrifying version of her own father. To set Eddie free, and let him breathe.

And Richie… he doesn’t really want to think about how Richie absolutely refused to tell them all what the sirens had whispered into his ear.

With Stan, it had been simple. He is happily married, living the life he wants. Nothing the sirens had said could make him throw it all away. If anything, they had reminded him more of the scars on his wrists, of how much he loves Patty, how deeply he cares about his friends. He had woken them up, one by one, with words of encouragement or a not so gentle scolding. Both, sometimes.

And then, Eddie had done a little of stabbing with his father’s spear, while Bill had crushed the sirens’ hearts with his bare hands, his eyes glowing with thunder.

Richie had let them sink, slowly, as if feeling guilty that creatures of the sea had almost ended them. Eddie had recognized the look on his eyes, because he had felt it all of his life. He still does.

_ Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. _

But anyways, Tom won’t be missed. Eddie hopes that Hades impales him with his spear again and again for all the eternity. He hasn’t dared to ask Stan about it, though.

Not that he has to, because after unsuccessfully trying to kill himself, Stan has become strangely open about the whole death thing. It’s unnerving, and not even Richie, with his twisted sense of humor, finds it funny.

Stan is an accountant, which isn’t surprising. Eddie and him are the only ones who know enough about finances, but Stan genuinely seems to enjoy it. He says it’s practical, and Eddie knows that, but he also knows that he was just playing safe when he chose his career. That, and doing what his mother wanted.

And also, he is married. Happily. Eddie has never been more jealous of anyone in his fucking life.

His wife, Patricia (Patty, for anyone that knows her even a little) is the nicest person Eddie knows. Excluding Ben, of course. They should both fight to the death for the title, even if they would never really fight. Because they’re nice people and not hooligans.

Eddie might or might not be a hooligan, deep down.

But anyways, Patty is incredibly sweet. There is something dark in her eyes, as if she had had a pretty hard life, but that might be because her dear husband almost killed himself like a month and half ago. She says that she was really not the best person back in the day, but Eddie doesn’t believe her. He can’t, not when her blue eyes shine like that when Stan smiles at her with one of his easy half smiles. When he calls her babylove, and she blushes as if they hadn’t been married for more than fifteen years.

Stan has always been serious, way too serious, but he seems to be more at ease than when they were children. No wonder he didn’t want to go back to the nightmare. That he was so desperate he almost-

Eddie doesn’t want to think about it.

The thing is, when Stan approaches him, the last thing he expected was some kind of premonition. Stan says it like it’s nothing, as if he had finally accepted that he is a child of Hades, and death is a part of him, like war should be a part of Eddie.

But Eddie, unlike most children of Ares, will probably die a peaceful death, succumbing to illness. Which is, in a way, scarier.

"How do you know?"

His voice sounds even sillier when he says out loud. Eddie hates every second of it.

"I just do," because Stan has always been like this. "I'll die first. I don't know when exactly, or why. But I know you'll be the next to go. It may happen in thirty, or forty years, but it will happen."

There is something unsaid. If Stan had killed himself, Eddie would have died fighting against the sirens. Eddie’s heart freezes in place, almost unable to speak.

"You know that's kind of fucked up to tell someone, right?"

"Not if that someone is wasting their life and not telling the love of their life how they feel."

_ Does everyone freaking know? Does  _ Richie  _ know? _

“Don’t worry, half of the losers haven’t realised yet. And that includes Richie, of course.”

Eddie blinks, once, twice, his jaw dropping slightly.

“How did you…”

“I’m a psychic,” Stan answers before he can finish talking. “I mean, that’s what Patty used to say before I told her I was a son of Hades.”

Eddie believes he is making the most ridiculous expression in the world.

“You… you told her?!”

And at that, Stan starts laughing. Eddie doesn’t blame him, given the hysterical tone of his own voice. He sounds like a lunatic, but the difference is that Stan sounds like a calm one.

“I love my wife, Eddie,” Stan says, and Eddie remembers that, as a child, Stan used to have a lot of trouble talking about his feelings like this. About positive feelings, not the ones that made him sad. He feels in tune with him, because Eddie himself has always been a little melancholic, too. “I would never hide something like this from her. Not forever.”

Eddie feels guilty. He would have never told Myra. He left home without a proper explanation, letting her drown in worry. Nobody deserves that. They may not have been the best to each other, but she didn’t deserve a husband that hides something that important from her.

“Are you sure you loved yours, Eddie?”

In regular circumstances, Eddie would get upset. He has always been defensive of his relationship with Myra. Because he knows, he knows the deep truth behind their marriage, he knows why he married her. He knows he was chaining himself to her, not letting her be free either. He knows there is something malicious about dooming his life and the life of another person just to feel some sense of safety.

Myra was always like one of his pills. A placebo for a problem that he made in his own head.

“I… I don’t really… I’m sorry, Stan.”

But Stan smiles, easily, a half smile that makes him look attractive, and that makes Eddie feel at ease.

“It’s not too late, you know.”

It’s not like Eddie doesn’t know what he is talking about. He knows, and his whole body reacts to it. He is sweating, his palms cold, his legs feeling like they don’t belong to him anymore. His brain begs him to do something different, not to freeze, but to be as brave as he always is when his friends are involved. As brave as he felt when he saved Richie from one of the sirens, stabbing the monster until the screeches ceased, not caring about the ichor, about the blood after he got bitten on his arm, about how cold and dirty the water was.

Richie needed his help. He would have died for him, for any of them.

“Do you know what the sirens told Richie?”

Eddie freezes.

“Of course I don’t. He refused to tell any of us.”

Stan’s smile becomes warmer.

“I think you know, deep down. Just like I knew, deep down, that I was going to marry Patty the moment I saw her.”

Eddie laughs nervously.

“Is it a demigod thing?”

Stan’s voice sounds almost mischievous when he speaks.

“Didn’t I just tell you, like, two minutes ago? I’m a psychic.”

Eddie is frankly starting to believe him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Richie likes to look at the sea. It’s common knowledge that Richie will be looking at the sea when he feels uneasy, and the Mediterranean is pretty peaceful to look at. Warm, calm, full of legends. And of granny piss, if you remember that you’re in Benidorm, Spain, and you realise you have never seen this many elderly people of every nationality in one place. 

But anyways, Richie has never really told the losers why he looks at the sea like this: if he thinks about his father, if there is a philosophical reason, or if he just likes the view. There are many things that Eddie doesn’t understand about Richie, but he gets the core, what matters above it all.

Richie is not feeling alright, and he may need someone to vent to. He is also afraid, maybe even more afraid than Eddie is, of something (not really) dirty that the waves cannot wash off, that Eddie cannot suppress anymore, even with all of his might.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, and he realises that he has been meaning to ask it for a really long time, never daring to take the first step.

Richie does get startled at his voice, and Eddie giggles slightly at his reaction. Richie is cute, he thinks. It’s not a revelation, because Richie was already cute thirty years ago, and Eddie literally couldn’t stop thinking about it. He is just a little different now, so handsome that it makes Eddie’s heart hurt. Not pretty in the conventional way, but handsome. Broad shoulders, big hands. Dark eyes that look at Eddie’s grey ones from behind his glasses. He wears contact lenses now, but hiding behind some glasses and a dirty mouth has always been easy.

Not that Eddie doesn’t know a lot about hiding.

“Eds. Jesus. You’re so tiny that I didn’t see you.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he is still smiling.

“You’re a turd, you know.”

Richie does smile back at that. His teeth are still a little big, and Eddie thinks about his step-father, Wentworth Tozier, who was a dentist and a good man. As much as Richie is.

“It takes one to know one.”

_ I change my mind _ , he thinks jokingly.  _ He is not good, he is freaking annoying and I can’t believe I am madly in love with him. _

That’s strangely the first time he has admitted it to himself, even like this.

And Eddie gets closer, thinks about all the things he could say. How he could start, how to convey his feelings properly. He is scared, of the outcome of this all, of himself. Of letting himself be touched, and rotting because of it.

He remembers Beverly as a kid, a cigarette between her lips; Ben and his dreamy eyes wondering about a better future, and he thinks, a little relieved, that he is not alone in this. That if he is dirty, all of them are, too. That’s why they’re losers. That’s why they’re friends. And if Eddie loves and trusts his friends, he can trust himself on this. Finally learn to love himself and others right.

“Rich. There is something you need to know. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Richie gulps, visibly agitated. Scared. Maybe fearing getting exposed, all the eyes on him, because of the right reasons, because of his true self. Richie is scared of touching him, his hands trembling as he tries to reach out. Perhaps he knows what Eddie is trying to tell him.

Is he even able to accept it at all?

And Eddie gets closer again, still scared of being touched, but willing to  _ touch  _ if that upsets his father, his shitty brothers. If that makes them both happy. If that makes his mother finally go silent, screaming like a dying siren with a strong Polish accent inside of his head.

So, he does the only reasonable thing. He gets on his tiptoes, and he kisses Richie. He swears that the waves stop, and he remembers Stan’s warning. That if Richie is going to outlive him, he can at least give him as many happy years as he can. That he owes him, and himself, this happiness.

Eddie might be a lover, but he is also a fighter. And when Richie kisses him back, he feels like he could take on a whole army by himself.

Nothing lasts forever, except maybe for love. And love? Love can conquer anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Meet me at korepers on twitter, lehoiurdin on tumblr. Hmu if you want to join the server that prompted this, too!


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